Drawl (read out loud)

A time to speak up

 

Think of it

Not

As punctuation,

But rather

Dialect, decorated

By accented diacritical marks.

 

If I speak in such

A manner that’s averse

To the way your words wander,

Perhaps you should listen

To how variations

Play across our story:

 

Resistance exists

Along the blade

Of consonant’s hiss and click.

As the oldest god

Has whispered before:

The word changes the world.

 

(December 20, 2017)

 

Status Quo

iSync-icon

 

Thanks for thinking of me

she wrote

 

When do I not? he thought

but did not reply

 

(June 17, 2018)

age’s descent

daccb62baf126c24f7476c0bf0cd9db7-d5j0vdb

 

as if suspended

in air by a string—

separate for a moment

from my body— I watched

myself fall suddenly

to the stair’s landing

like a broken puppet

into a bloodied pile

 

(May 31, 2018)

Committed to Ritual

 

bandstand-pic 

The days and nights pass

in calm acquiescence. As

expectations lurk without

patience, sad laughter slips

into conversation’s pauses.

We each drink to avoid the

silent ramifications: there’s

nothing to say; and, what’s said

means nothing. A stock phrase

spills from a stock question

in a communal recitation.

Only empty gestures remain

to conjure, with a hollow

dance, the clichés of love.

 

(May 10 2018)

I Slag Off Bits of Myself

rainbow3

 

moments decades gone by

twist tightly at my throat

 

I cannot speak beyond garbled

syllables juxtaposed like a collage

 

each angle cuts a new facet

to bend the light of reason

 

as prisms blur rainbows

across a darkened wall

 

I am shattered into colors

frayed and inarticulate edges

 

until what I once knew whole

fades into inconsequence

 

and regret like memory reverberates

throughout the gathering darkness

 

(March 9, 2018)

she lingers

 

giphy

above the brook’s surface,

as thought insinuates

itself past itself,

and petals escape eddies

to slip downstream

like small silent ships

without consequence,

here, on the rock’s face,

a sheen of mist,

far into the afternoon,

clings to shadows

folded within crevices

like secret notes

tucked furtively

into a back pocket

before she walks away

 

(February 25, 2018)

My Own Abyss

 

falling-apart

To resist

My

Dismantling,

 

The nibble

And nip

Of niggling voices,

 

I must stop

Listening

To myself—

 

The snide

Mocking

Laughter

 

Which waits

To eviscerate.

 

(January 9, 2018)

 

 

Fate

 

knot-hangmans-noose-black-backdrop-18mm-manila-1-ajhd 

Presumptuous tropes

Slip like ropes around my neck.

We are never free.

 

(October 31, 2017)